Even Nothing Can't Last Forever
by whimseyrhodes
Summary: When Eliot comes home a little the worse for wear, he is surprised when Hardison and Parker only want to take care of him. OT3, Written for Jinxcat21. Comes after Taste Test and New Plaything, before Falling Into. One Shot? IDK, Review and let me know!


OT3 Segue from TT/ANP to Falling Into

Disclaimer: I don't own them no matter how much I wish I did.

Written for Jinxcat21, who suggested that a segue was needed between stories. Hope this fits the bill!

Even Nothing Can't last Forever

Eliot walked slowly up the stairs, pausing at the top of the landing before forcing himself to continue. His duffle bag was heavy on his shoulder and his steps echoed dully in the hallway as he shuffled to his front door.

For the last two weeks the team had been on a break as Sophie and Nate took a holiday in Milan, while Eliot, Parker, and Hardison stayed in Boston and got progressively more and more bored. Eliot took a job down in Tijuana when he heard that Parker wanted to fly to France to 'check out' the new display at the Louvre. Deciding that he didn't want her to be alone, Hardison had gone with her. They were supposed to stay there until Monday, which meant that Eliot would have three days alone to relax and heal up.

His job had gone south, as they usually did nowadays, with his client giving him outdated information and then trying to double cross him at the end. He'd sustained a pretty good beat-down at the hands of the dozen or more guards (he hadn't stopped to count them all) that he'd had to plow through to get out the front gate. A mid-grade concussion had had him puking his guts out as soon as he was a mile away, and the pain of that combined with what he determined later was three cracked ribs and two broken ones, had made him nearly pass out right there on the roadside. His left wrist and elbow were badly twisted and two fingers on that hand were broken, his right kidney was so bruised he knew he'd be pissing blood for days, and to top it all off, there was now a new scar to add to his collection. He'd stitched up the four inch gash on his right hip two days prior, but sanitation in Mexico was less than ideal, and he'd felt the fever starting the day before as he drove through Iowa.

The maps all told him that it would take at least 44 hours to drive from Mexico to Boston, but he made it in 42. With dual tanks on his truck, he had to stop less often for gas, and a cooler sat in the passenger's seat, making meals just a reach and a grab.

His eyes burned as he made it to his door, and he rubbed them hard with the heel of his hand before fumbling with his keys, finally getting the right ones in the right combinations. The duffle bag dropped to the floor the instant he crossed the threshold and he kicked his boots off, leaving them beside the door. He closed the door and then stood there for a few minutes, head down, as he tried to muddle through what he needed to do just then, his exhausted and concussed brain processing slower than a snail's pace.

He heard a slight noise in the living room and he tensed instantly, creeping silently towards the sound. Adrenalin kicked in and his blurred vision snapped into focus, his hearing sharpened, and his heartbeat doubled as he stalked toward the living room. Instinct told him that there was someone, or several someones, hiding just on the other side of the wall he was currently backed up against, and he trusted that instinct fully. Whipping around the doorframe, he punched out with his right fist and hit flesh, resulting in an "OWowowowowow_OW!_" in a familiar voice.

"Dude! You just smashed your hulk fist into my nose!" Hardison whined. (Although it sounded more like, 'Dood, oo ust mashed er ulk bist inna m' ose!')

"_Dammit_, Hardison!" Eliot huffed. "You should know better than to sneak around in my house! _MY_ house, man!" The injured hitter stood with his arm wrapped around ribs that a grated with the movement, sending harsh signals to his brain that told him that further movement was not advised at the moment.

He looked up to see both of Hardison's big paws covering his nose and his eyes wide and white behind them, shimmering with tears of pain, Parker peering around his arm. "Sorry, man," Eliot said, now feeling bad. "Just…you don't sneak up on me, okay?"

Hardison simply nodded as Parker patted his bicep and then bounced around the hacker. Eliot could tell she was getting ready to launch herself at him for a full on Parker-smoosh. Stepping back, he held up his right hand. "No. No hugs," he said as he shook his head slightly and then glared at them. "Wait…what the hell are you two back for, anyway? I thought you were in Paris for three more days?"

Parker shrugged and whipped her long blonde ponytail back as she bounced on her tip-toes. "Got bored. I wanted Eliot pancakes. With chocolate chips and jelly beans and bananas! Oooooh, and ice-cream….Bubble gum!"

Eliot nearly hurled as he heard her newest combination, but his ribs wouldn't thank him. Instead, he just made a face and wrapped his good arm around his stomach again.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Hardison muttered, his voice cleared up to almost normal as he poked his own nose experimentally.

So caught up in the concoction Parker had thought of and the feeling of his brain shuddering from the sugary sweetness of it all, he missed her sidling around him until he felt tiny hands slide up his back and stop on his shoulders. At the same time, Hardison moved in and cupped the side of his face.

"Guys, not tonight," he said, tilting his head away and trying to sidestep. "Just…."

Parker moved one hand to his ribs and the hitter froze. "Don't…please, not tonight," he repeated, raising his hand to pull Hardison's away from his face.

"El, wait. You're hurt, aren't you?" the hacker asked, his eyes narrowing at the hitter.

Eliot growled and pulled away from them both, managing to extricate himself from their hands. "I'm fine," he said, turning to walk into the kitchen. Opening the cabinets, he started to slowly pull down ingredients and pans with his right hand.

"What are you doing?" Parker asked.

"You said you wanted pancakes, so I'm gonna make you some pancakes," he replied, opening the refrigerator and reaching down for the eggs. A flash of pain ripped up his side as he bent over and he gasped, clenching his teeth on a groan as he felt the blood drain from his face.

The eggs were taken from his hand and he watched as the tiny thief slipped around him to put them back into the fridge and close the door, and he heard Hardison putting things back into the cupboards. Looking back and forth between the two, he frowned. "Parker, what….?"

"You're not making me anything," she interrupted, and he realized she'd deftly unzipped his jacket and was sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms. He clenched his teeth again as the leather pulled at his left arm, even though he'd splinted it, and the fingers, the night before. He'd been planning to immobilize his arm when he got home, and the pain in his elbow nearly made him pass out then and there. He uttered a soft moan and clamped his lips shut on the sound.

"Same here," said the hacker as he took Eliot's jacket from Parker. She moved around to the front and started un-buttoning his flannel shirt and before he could bring his hands up to stop her, she'd pushed it from his shoulders.

"Parker, please, I said I can't do this tonight," Eliot repeated in almost a pleading tone as he tried to back up again.

"Eliot, shiiiiit…." Hardison said softly, his eyes fixing on the bruises decorating the hitter's stomach and low on his back. "There's no way we're gonna ask you for that for a while."

Eliot pulled the shirt back up over his shoulders awkwardly, holding it closed with his good hand. "I got this." He shook his head, his eyes fixed on his feet. "I'm fine. I just need a couple of days and I'll be good as new."

"Aw, man, don't even," Hardison started. "You ain't gonna hide in no hole when you got us here."

Eliot narrowed his eyes and looked back and forth as Parker nodded. "What _he_ said, Sparky. Now strip!" His head jerked at that and he swayed at the vertigo that hit him. "Parker, I'm not strippin'!"

"Yeah, ya are," Hardison countered, his hands reaching out to steady the hitter. "We need ta see where you're hurt, mebbe get you inta a shower, and then get you inta bed. Preferably with lots of good drugs."

"Why 'r you doin' this?" Eliot asked, confused, the days of constant pain making his tongue looser than normal. "Why bother?"

"Why bo-….why bother?! Man, you musta gone and hit your head harder 'n you thought, you gotta ask us that," the tall man miffed as he carefully slid Eliot's shirt down and off of his arms. "We do it because we care about you, man."

"We don't like to see you hurt, and we want to make sure you get better," Parker added from the vicinity of his feet as she lifted one of his legs up and slipped off his sock, then repeated the move with his other leg. Straightening, but still on her knees, she unbuckled his belt and unthreaded it from the loops, again before he could do or say anything to stop her. He ceded defeat and let himself accept Hardison's hands, gentle on his sides, steady him as he stepped out of his jeans as Parker eased them off.

She stood gracefully and cupped his face like the hacker had just minutes earlier, and he felt a shudder go through his body at her touch as he let his head tilt into her hand. "You're hot, Sparky. I mean, not like You're-Hot-And-I-Wanna-Get-Naked-With-You hot, but You're-Hot-In-A-Sweaty-Not-Good-Sick kinda way."

"Mmm," Eliot nodded against her hand and moved his good hand to the bandage low on his side. He could feel the heat radiating even through the gauze. "Knife," he said, looking down and swaying again. Hardison's arm tightened and Eliot flinched and moaned; the hacker loosened his grip a little. "Prob'ly needs t' be opened ….n' cleaned 'gain."

"You okay?" Parker asked in concern at his slurred words, her eyes shifting to Hardison.

"Hey, El, I'mma get you to the couch, let you sit for a bit, 'kay?" Hardison said, and the hitter shook his head, his eyes clearing for a moment.

"Bed…." he muttered, his strength fading fast. "I need 't….lay down."

"Yeah. Okay. Bed." They changed directions mid step and held Eliot between them as they walked to the bedroom. The hacker helped Eliot balance while Parker quickly turned down the covers, then they eased him onto the mattress.

Eliot blinked, wobbling a little as he sat on the edge of the bed, and a large hand settled on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked blearily to the side, following the arm to a concerned face hovering close by. "Ya okay?" Hardison asked softly.

" 'M fine," the hitter said out of habit. "Why 'r you guys doin' this?" he asked again, not able to quite understand their motives. To him, motives were everything, and no one had ever lifted a hand to help him in the past without wanting something from him in return.

"El, we want to," Hardison said, his hand moving to gently grip the back of Eliot's neck, his thumb stroking the hitter's jaw. "We want to take care of you, because you take care of us. Will you let us?"

Again, his concussed brain took a little longer than usual to process the situation, and his instinctive reluctance to admit that he actually needed help made the decision a painfully hard one to make, but he finally nodded a little. Hardison let out the breath that he'd been holding and returned the nod.

"Okay, then we need to reopen that wound and clean it out," Parker said from his other side.

"Let's get you layin' down first," the hacker said, easing his arm around Eliot's shoulders and lowering him onto the bed as Parker lifted his legs. They got him settled on his back, his head resting comfortably on the pillow. Hardison fetched the hitter's hospital grade First Aid kit while Parker eased the tape from the hot skin, pausing every once in a while as Eliot tensed or gasped.

"It looks….angry," she finally said, looking up at Eliot. His eyes were closed and sweat dampened the hair at his temples. She knew he was still conscious though by the set of his jaw. "I'll cut the stitches and flush it out, then stitch it back up again, is that okay, Sparky?" she asked.

His reply was a grunt and a curt nod, and she curled her fingers briefly around his, clenched into a fist in the sheet already. Hardison opened the kit on the floor beside the bed, pulling out what she would need and setting it out on the bed by the hitter's legs. Looking at the swollen and angry red wound, he swallowed visibly. "You…uh, you gonna…just….go all Nurse Ratchet or something'?" he asked, his eyes flicking from Parker's set face to the wound and back again.

"Why would I act like a nurse?" she paused, frowning at him. "I'm more like a doctor, Dr. Parker!" she chirped.

"Just get on with it," Eliot growled, and their banter subsided. Hardison decided that his best contribution would be to sit on the bed opposite Parker, gently bathing Eliot's sweaty face and chest, holding him still every once in a while as Parker worked.

Her face was a mask of concentration as she injected the area with a local anesthetic before starting, giving it a minute to start numbing it. Then she carefully cut the stitches and opened the wound, flushing it out with sterile water and then peroxide, watching as the area bubbled and fizzed. Rinsing again, her steady fingers delicately stitched it back together, placing the stitches exactly how Eliot had in the first place. Finally, she daubed an antibiotic lotion on the wound and taped a clean gauze pad over it, pressing the tape gently.

Looking up, she finally dropped back into the world of sight and sound again and she saw Eliot shaking in Hardison's arms. During the procedure, her focus was so sharp that she didn't hear or sense anything else, and now she felt worried at the sight of the normally strong and steady hitter huddled against Hardison, a hand fisted tightly into his shirt, his head buried in the hacker's chest.

"Eliot," she breathed, rising up on her knees to touch him, but her hand just hovered close to him. "El, El, I'm sorry," she whispered, finally reaching forward to brush a damp lock of hair from his face. He opened his eyes, and all she saw there was a tremulous gratitude.

" 'M…okay," he breathed, the tremors in his body slowly fading. He sank into Hardison's arms willingly, letting the hacker just hold him as Parker smoothed his hair back from his face, murmuring softly. Between one breath and the next, he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

Eliot drifted in and out of awareness, never moving or indicating in any way that he was awake briefly. His instincts held him still and silent, because he'd learned through many experiences that if he showed any signs of being awake while he was sick or injured, chances were good that he'd just receive more of the punishment that had landed him in his current predicament.

So it was a surprise to him when he woke once to discover Parker lying next to him, her delicate hand brushing his hair from his forehead and tracing around the contours of his face. Her fingertips slid over his eyebrows and around to the bridge of his nose, down and to the side before ghosting over his lips. Over and around her fingers trailed and without even realizing it, he'd fallen asleep again.

The next time he woke, it was Hardison next to him, a long warmth along his side as the hacker held him close, his arms loose but secure. The other man's lips were at his temple, and he heard Hardison talking, a stream of consciousness rumble that he didn't pay attention to other than to listen to the soft, low voice. Lulled by the sounds, Eliot surrendered once again to healing sleep.

When he finally woke up enough to open his eyes, he found himself between both the hacker and the thief, their nest warm and comfortable. The arms around him and the hands on his body didn't make him startle, which made him arch his eyebrows a little in surprise.

"Hey," a voice whispered sleepily from his right side. Blinking, Eliot managed to turn his head and he groaned at the ache of the movement. "Hey, hey, hey…. Easy, El. Don't gotta move if you don' wanna." The voice belonged to Hardison, as did the big but surprisingly gentle hand that massaged his sore neck. This time he groaned for another reason as the muscles in his neck eased.

"Better." He could hear the satisfied smile in Hardison's voice.

It was a challenge to unroll his eyes from his fluttering lids, but when he did, he saw a bright white smile shining at him. "Hey…." he breathed, or rather, croaked.

He felt the bed dip a little and then Parker appeared above him, her blonde hair pulled back into a loose, messy bun that made her look even more innocent than she normally did. "You sound like something crawled down your throat and chewed on your vocal chords," she said bluntly. "Are you hungry?"

At her question, his stomach did a little flop that made him groan and scrunch his face up. "That's a no, even I can tell that. How about water?" He thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "Maybe a little?" he rasped tentatively.

She disappeared from view and Hardison shifted, making the hitter moan softly with the movement. "Sorry, man, sorry. We gonna get you some drugs so you don't hurt no more," he promised as he moved to sit up, then lifted Eliot's upper body gently up to his chest. Eliot's hand grabbed ahold of the bedding and squeezed, clamping his jaws shut on any more sound.

It seemed like he'd only blinked once, but when he opened his eyes again, Parker was sitting on the bed facing him, holding a glass of water and a bottle of his pain killers. She held up the bottle so that he could see what it was, and he reluctantly nodded. "Yeah. Two." Shaking out the requested pills, she pushed them between his lips and held the glass up so that he could drink. He gulped down the water uncoordinatedly, coughing a little as he pulled back.

"Easy," Hardison soothed, and he felt a hand smoothing his hair back from his forehead as he caught his breath. Looking up, he couldn't help the question that tumbled from his lips once more. "Why'r you doing this?"

The answer came from Parker first this time. "You help us all the time, Eliot, and you never ask for anything in return. Why do you think that we wouldn't do the same for you? We…we kinda love you, and we don't like seeing you hurt when we can help." The last words were soft, and the meaning made him speechless for a moment.

"She's right," Hardison spoke up. "We kinda love you, ya redneck."

"Geek," he returned without even thinking about it.

"Yeah, baby," the hacker grinned, and he knew it was alright. Shrugging internally, Eliot gave up and gave in to a long buried craving for comfort.


End file.
